


Sex With An Ex

by TheInevitableSense



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: "Walls Waltz" by Haley Mosley, Blood, Car Accidents, I'm Never Going To Be President Now, Inspired by a poem, M/M, Macabre, Nightmares, Nonsense Events, Past Character Death, Pretty Fucked Up Imagery, Spoiler Alert: Alexander Is Fucking Dead, This Is My Favorite Ship Why Do I Do This?, Thomas Is A Fucking Mess, Why Do I Continue To Hurt My Children, Why Do I Continue To Write These Things, Why Won't I Let Them Be Happy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8804317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInevitableSense/pseuds/TheInevitableSense
Summary: Thomas’ bed smells like Alexander tonight.
Which doesn’t make any sense because this is Thomas’ own bedroom in Virginia and Alexander had never been to Monticello once, let alone slept in this bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the amazing spoken poem "Walls Waltz" by Haley Mosley. Seriously, look it up it's gorgeous. I took a few liberties and changed the interpretation a little bit but I like how this went.
> 
> (For now at least I wrote this in an hour-and-a-half about three hours ago so we'll see in the morning *shrugs*)

Thomas’ bed smells like Alexander tonight.

Which doesn’t make any sense because this is Thomas’ own bedroom in Virginia and Alexander had never been to Monticello once, let alone slept in this bed. But it smells like Alexander all the same and Thomas can’t sleep. He can’t fall asleep when all he can think about is Alexander. Every breath is another reminder of what Thomas has lost and he doesn’t want to breathe anymore.

He sits up, climbs out of bed and pulls an extra pillow out of the closet. He doesn’t know how well the guest rooms are set up so he goes to the bathroom instead. Here, it only smells like soap and toothpaste so Alexander is nowhere to be found. Thomas feels the inside of the bathtub, confirms that it’s dry and climbs inside. He fluffs up the pillow, puts it behind his head and settles into it. The faucet on the other end of the bathtub is dripping, slow and even. Once every few seconds a droplet of water hits the ceramic bottom.

_Drip..._

Thomas stares at the wall ahead of him, trying to think of anything but Alexander.

_Drip_...

He starts to lose himself in the regular rhythm of the water hitting the tub.

_Drip_...

Thomas’ eyes drift closed.

_Drip…_

_Drip…_

_Drip…_

His eyes fly open. Thomas starts awake at some unknown shift in the world around him, so he looks around the bathroom wildly until his eyes settle on the sink and the figure leaning against it.

Alexander, hair down and loose around his shoulders, watches Thomas with dark eyes. He looks casual, as if it is normal to stand in your ex’s bathroom at who-knows-what-time in the morning. When he sees that Thomas is awake, Alexander smiles.

Thomas can’t believe he’s here, but there he stands. Thomas sits up, leaning away from the pillow, hands curling around the lip of the tub. Alexander’s near-black eyes pull at him until Thomas is kneeling, leaning as far over the edge of the bathtub as his body allows. Alexander stands still, watching Thomas draw closer and closer. Thomas is hit with an urge to lean as far as he needs to go to connect their lips, but Alexander is too far away, too high for Thomas to reach in his kneeling position.

“It’s been a while,” Alexander says, his voice sounding more like home than Monticello feels but Thomas still cannot reach him. Alexander’s words hit Thomas like an audial beating, so familiar, but they hurt. Thomas remembers the last time Alexander spoke to him, pain and exhaustion the only thing to be heard in his voice. To hear his voice so strong again is almost off-putting, Thomas’ ears pounding the aftermath.

Or is that the sound of Alexander’s heartbeat? Because Alexander turns to face Thomas and Thomas can see that his shirt’s ripped open. The flesh of Alexander’s chest is torn away in a familiar sight and he can see the man’s ribcage, see his heart beat against white bone. It pulses dark red, blood seeping through the spaces between ribs. Alexander’s heart strains against its cage with wet smacking sounds each time it hammers to be free.

Thomas can’t look away as Alexander stands up from the sink and crosses the short distance to where Thomas is kneeling. Alexander’s hands wrap around the rim of the tub by Thomas’ and Alex starts to lean over to meet him. Thomas can’t help but be repulsed by the sight of Alexander’s bloody chest and he leans back, forcing Alexander to chase him. Drops of blood hit Thomas’ hands but Alexander has him pushed all the way against the wall and Thomas can’t move.

Alexander is just inches away, lips parted slightly, warm breath hitting Thomas’ face. The urge to kiss the man surfaces again but Thomas is frozen and Alexander won’t close the last remaining distance. They are still for a moment and Thomas wants nothing more than for Alexander to finish the job, to connect their lips and kiss him one more time.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Thomas watches with mounting horror as Alexander’s heart, still exposed behind the ribcage, bursts open. A shower of blood rains down on Thomas, coating his hands and chest but Alexander is unfazed. He just keeps smiling as Thomas is coated with his life blood. Thomas jerks his hands away from the tub rim and stares at the blood that coats them. A little more drips onto them and he looks back up at the ruined heart.

The lining of it is all that remains, lying limp against Alexander’s bones. Despite being torn apart, it is smooth and perfect. If Thomas had a needle and thread, he might be able to sew up the lining to recreate the heart again. But Alexander’s heart cannot be mended, Thomas knows. It is broken and will not beat again.

Alexander is still smiling. His heart is nothing but an empty sheet of organ tissue, but he’s happy. His face is splattered with his own blood, lips bright red but he’s happy. Alexander looks as happy as any day Thomas had spent with him. Happy like he had been happy the morning after the first time Thomas had stayed over at his apartment. Happy like he was, laughing in the car the moment before it all fell apart and Thomas lost him.

As if Alexander could read his mind he says: “Ah, well, I’m happy. You wanna know why?”

Alexander’s lips curl around the question and Thomas finds himself nodding despite how horrific Alexander looks in this moment. He opens his mouth to speak but he screams, the sight in front of him leaving him able to do nothing else.

“Sure,” he says, “Of course.” The words are torn out of him as he panics, his bloodied hands still held out in front of him, collecting the blood that is still dripping from Alexander’s chest. A fresh spout spurts from Alexander and lands on Thomas’ face, splattering against his cheek.

“I’m somewhere better now” Alexander says, simply. Thomas knows he’s mocking him and the blood boils in his veins.

“Well, I am too,” Thomas says, the words somehow calm despite what he had last been using his voice for. Alexander’s smile drops, his brow furrows.

“Fuck you,” he spits.

“I’m out,” Thomas says, but follows it with, “I need you.” As if those two statements make any sense together but somehow, in Thomas’ mind, they do. Alexander lurches away from the bathtub, backing away and into the opposite corner of the bathroom. He’s laughing now, as if Thomas’ admission is funny to him. Alexander licks his lips, wiping the blood there away, but more just comes bubbling from his throat.

When Alexander’s back hits the corner, his hands come up beside him and now he’s crawling up the wall on his back. He’s still laughing and Thomas follows his ascent with his eyes. Blood runs down the wall where Alex is climbing and soon he reaches the ceiling. In a blink, he’s lying flat on his back on the ceiling, arms and legs spread. His hair falls down around his face in a strange brown halo. Blood drips to the floor and Alexander smirks down at Thomas.

_Look at your damn self_ , the smirk reads.

Thomas has never seen a mirror so clear.

In that one expression Thomas can see how Alexander saw _him_ for all those years. Thomas’ chest, their bodies pressed together, laughter and bickering, Thomas’s chest as he breathes, and every moment they ever spent together is reflected back at Thomas in a single mocking smile and Thomas wants nothing more than to reach up and tear it off Alexander’s face. He doesn’t want to see it or any of what it shows Thomas anymore.

Alexander’s happy now, and so is Thomas. Thomas doesn’t need Alexander anymore, not if everything that they were can be summed up in a single act of mockery. Not if all the good memories have to be tarnished by their last moments together. He’s worked so hard to get over it all but here it is, being thrown back in his face. Thomas’ mouth fills with the words to tell Alexander this but they burn like melting rubber in his mouth.

Alexander is happy, grinning down at him from the ceiling.

Thomas can feel his mouth burn from the inside, the very thought of telling Alexander to fuck off sending pain shooting through his gums. It almost feels like something is being carved into his mouth so Thomas finally climbs out of the tub. He’s careful not to slip on the pool of blood gathering on the floor as he scrambles to the sink. Thomas pulls back his lips and in the mirror he can see that Alexander’s name has been carved into the flesh above his upper teeth.

He goes to feel the marking but the sight of his still-bloodied hands stop him. His palms are still covered in Alexander’s blood and he cannot move again. The blood on his hands starts to move, starts to coalesce into a cylinder in his right palm and suddenly Thomas is holding a tube of lipstick made up of Alexander’s blood.

He holds the tube up, the dark crimson red shining in the mirror and Thomas has the urge to spread the makeup over the silver surface. So he does, leaning over the sink and letting his hand travel as it wants, spelling out a message of its own accord. Soon the mirror reads: _I’m happy_.

Somewhere behind Thomas, Alexander begins to chant the phrase “I’m happy” over and over again. His voice is full of honesty and laughter, like he’s taking joy in the pain he’s inflicting on Thomas. “I’m happy,” he says, and with it comes the sound of crashing metal and shattering glass, “I’m happy,” hospital heart monitors beeping, “I’m happy,” flat lining, “I’m happy.”

Thomas blinks and suddenly Alexander is straddling the sink, the tube of lipstick in his hand. Slowly, Alexander leans closer, holding out the lipstick and tracing Thomas’ lips. “Your lips,” Alexander mutters, almost to himself. Thomas finds himself once again frozen as Alexander slowly pushes the tip of the lipstick past Thomas’ lips. Alexander pushes the lipstick farther, past Thomas’ tongue and starting down his throat.

Thomas swears he almost feels happy in this moment, the emotion rising unbidden to his chest. Alexander is here again, touching him again. He starts to feel again-

Alexander is gone, disappearing as suddenly as he arrived. Thomas chokes on the lipstick now stuck in his throat. He coughs it up into the sink and it clinks against the porcelain. He gasps for air, wheezing, eyes screwed shut. He clutches at the sides of the sink to keep himself from falling to his knees but he’s still swaying.

_Oh, but you taste so good_ , Alexander says, but it comes from inside Thomas. He feels bile start to rise in his throat and he tries to swallow it back down. Alexander hisses and Thomas is suddenly sure that Alexander is _inside_ Thomas’ body somehow so he tries to reach down his own throat and pull the man out but he gets nowhere, fingertips getting stuck just past his teeth. Alexander laughs inside Thomas’ head as he pulls his hand out of his mouth and hits the sink with it.

“Please, just come back,” Thomas begs of Alexander, “Please leak again, please let me stare at your body and its cracks for a while, let me see your heart beat, please. Please come back to me, please be alive again.”

The lipstick made of Alexander’s blood rolls in the bottom of the sink. Thomas can hear Alexander’s heartbeat in his ears, it echoes in the walls of the bathroom. The walls throb with the pounding, like they are using Alexander’s heartbeat as music to dance to. Thomas throws his hands over his ears but the walls won’t stop pounding.

“I’m happy,” the walls say in Alexander’s voice. Thomas collapses to his knees, suddenly aware he is living in a nightmare and he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to wake up. He looks up at the bloodied mirror, which tilts forward of its own accord so Thomas can see himself in it. He looks like an absolute mess, covered in blood, lipstick and his own tears but Thomas doesn’t know when he started crying.

_I’m happy_ reads the mirror, the words floating just above Thomas’ reflection. Thomas looks at his own face, pleading, desperate, wanting nothing more than closure.

“I’m sorry,” he says, tears rolling down his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, the crash wasn’t my fault, please, _I’m sorry_.”

Alexander laughs. “I’m happy,” he says. The walls start to slow down, the sound of Alexander’s heart slowing down to a stop with them. “I’m happy, I’m happy, I’m ha-”

Thomas awakens for real in the bathtub, tears running down his face and almost immediately he begins to sob.

Three years after the accident and Alexander won’t stop haunting Thomas, won’t let him be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> To clear things up if you're confused:
> 
> Thomas and Alexander were dating until they were in a car accident that took Alexander's life. This fic takes place three years later, describing a guilt dream Thomas has over his slow journey getting over Alexander's death and being happy again.


End file.
